All About Adelyn - Month 1

Adelyn is one month old.

 As I remember from Teddy's early months, the days are simultaneously so long and so short that I'm never sure if it is Monday or Friday or some other day altogether. The counting of weeks and months and milestones flies by in a blur of dirty diapers and re-heated coffee and washed bottles.

Being a second child myself I always joked (half seriously, half lightheartedly) that there were rarely pictures of just me, and there were far fewer pictures in sum of my babyhood than that of the first child. While that will probably be different in some ways for Adelyn and Teddy given the improved technology (hello iPhone camera always at the ready), I empathize with some basic things about being a mother of two. All of this is to say, I hope that I am able to keep blog posts about Adelyn's developments on a month-by-month basis like I did with Teddy. However, I'm cutting myself some slack too; that if I fall behind or miss a month or two I will at least update when I can.

Without further ado, here is all about Adelyn in her first month:

Loves:
- eating
- sleeping
- being held
- being talked to/interacted with
- black and white toys

Hates:
- being hungry
- baths

Starting to:
- smile at us!
- track objects/toys with her eyes

Overheard

Me (as Teddy spins in circles): Hey bud, you gettin' dizzy?!

Teddy: Yeah, I'm gettin' busy!

Filed under "cracks me up every time" and "random stuff I never want to forget"

Dear Baby a,

You arrived on a Thursday morning, 8:00am on the nose. And it has been a whirlwind ever since that morning two weeks ago. I knew you would be my little firecracker, my feisty little girl. You did not disappoint us! Before your body was separate from mine, you began the wails and screams heard round the hospital. Ok, so probably not that far, but dang girl, you had some lungs on you and you let us know!

I watched you wail and flail as they cleaned you off and measured you. The whole while crying my own tears of love beyond measure. That is what surprised me the most about your birth - not seeing your eyes that reminded me of your brother or your hands that looked like mine or the swirl of hair at that center of your head that is all your own. What surprised me the most was the immediacy of my love for you; how at the exact second you left my body, I loved you more than I ever dreamed.

After the nurses wrapped you tightly, Dada was able to carry you over to me. He held you close to my face and we talked to and you quieted your wails to just whimpers. You knew us. Your whole demeanor changed in an instant. Your big eyes intently trying to focus on mine in those first moments. I kissed your cheeks and head and marveled at how soft you were. For such a firesty little girl, you had the softest skin I've ever felt.

We named you Adelyn Mae. Our baby girl. Our little firecracker. Our softest and feistiest parts all in one package. Our 7lb, 20 inch long burst of warmth on a cold, January morning.

Welcome to us.

Love,
Mom

Dear Baby a,

Oh baby girl, you are so close to being here. Tomorrow is your due date, but I don't expect to see you for another week. You seem to be mighty cozy inside right now. And how could I blame you. With the whipping winter wind at my cheeks, I make final preparations for you and think that it is a mighty cold time to have such a little babe.

I have thought of you as a firecracker for a while now, though. I know you will bring  a warmth to this cold month. You continue to be active and make your presence known daily. I have more aches and pains as I carry you in these last days. But trust me, I cherish it. I cherish the firecracker that you are and that you will be in our lives.

I will miss these days, I know. I will miss the kicks and rolls and jabs. I will mourn the loss of carrying you inside - a constant companion, a constant reminder that my body can grow life. I will miss the kindness of strangers on the subway. I will miss the rest you insist my body takes these days.

But I also can't wait. I can't wait to see your face, hear your cry, count your fingers, kiss your cheek, speak your name and show you to everyone who already loves you. I can't wait to see what fire you will light in me, in our family, in this world.

You are so loved, baby girl. You are awaited and anticipated.

Love,
Mom

Santa 2012 (aka Parenting Fail of 2012)

 My little man did such a stellar job waiting to see Santa. The line was 30+ minutes. No big deal for him (except for the last 3 minutes of course). He waited patiently to tell Santa that he wanted "tucks and cars" for Christmas. B and I were happy with what seemed like a non-fearful 2 year old as he bashfully approached the big man. He sat nicely, smiled (sort of), and collected his reindeer antler hat.

Not 3 feet from Santa he entered full on meltdown mode. Tears and snot and slack body and running from us and crying "cars and tucks, mama! cars and tucks!" as I tried to waddle after him in a busy mall. And it was then that I remembered that I don't tell anything exciting to my 2 year old until itwillhappenwithoutadoubtinabout2seconds.

But Santa? Santa forgot to give him his "cars and tucks." Trying to explain the concept of time ("buddy, Santa has to go make your cars and truck" "Teddy, we have to wait for Santa to brings cars and trucks to our house on Christmas") to a tantruming, hungry, and now tired 2 year old? Impossible. Listening to his disappointed cries for most of the 30 minute ride home? Heartbreaking.

Thus commences the parenting fail of 2012. And then we did what any guilt-stricken parents would do. We took him to get pizza. And we all felt better.


(For comparison, here is the pic from last year. This comparison gets me every time! He looks so little boyish now!)

The weight of it all

Sometimes it feels so heavy. The weight of love; yours and mine.

It is heavy when the day to day dependency wears on me. To have someone so reliant demands I be totally selfless. But I am human, and I am not totally selfless.

It is heavy when you make one more request. To hear your voice, that I can't remember not knowing, demands that I listen when I crave silence.

Sometimes it feels so light. The weight of love; yours and mine.

It is featherweight when your eyes search for me in a crowd of parents and children at the park. To see you so small in the world calls forth in me a protectiveness I have towards no one else.

It is featherweight when you gently turn the pages of a book and tell me a story. To watch you grow, moment to moment, feels like a stolen blessing.

Oh how life keeps reminding me that love changes, it grows. It demands and it frees. It is so heavy and so, so light.

Lately

 Lots of outside time

 

Fun with Mama's new phone

Christmastime!